Bad Memories
by ihadnowittyusername
Summary: Oneshot. Bobby and Sofie share a short conversation after Jack's death. [mention of drug usage]


**Bad Memories.  
**She's wearing Angel's shirt when he pulls up. She tugs on it some when he gets out of the car in an effort to cover her thighs. Funny. Bobby had never seen the modest side of Sofie. Not that it was particularly suiting to her. Just a nice surprise. She keeps the cigarette balanced between her middle and index the same way the ladies in the movies do. Her eyes are glazed over and she keeps her lips drawn together so they appear thin and she appears, at best, bitter.

"It's late," she speaks first because she knows Bobby wont, "bar's closed an hour ago,"

"You waited on me sweetheart? I'm flattered,"

"Fuck you Bobby,"

"You should go inside. Not safe for a gal like you," he mocks, pushing his keys into his pocket.

"Oh my bad: I'll protect you _sweetheart_," she smiles sweetly and he can tell that she's warding off tears.

He sits down next to her. She doesn't expect this.

"I thought you quit," he remarks, just to keep the conversation going, pulling a pack of cigarettes of his own out of his pocket, "Angel doesn't like you smoking,"

Silence– as he's learned in the past week– isn't his friend.

"You neither,"

She passes him her cigarette when he fumbles around for a lighter. "Don't waste it all on one bad fucking memory kid," she smiles and he refrains from watching her climb the stairs, remembering that no matter what she's wearing she's still his brother's girl and he still hates her.

"Wait," he doesn't look back and she doesn't know what to think. For a moment, they both wonder if they had just made it up, "don't go," he looks back this time.

She stumbles for something to say. Something witty or funny. Some way to tell Bobby, for the ump-teenth time now, that she loathes him.

"Ok," she whispers before regaining her old self.

She plops down next to him.

"Since when do you need company from me?"

"Since..." he trails off and they both know what he wants to say. Since my younger brother died. Since my best friend died. Since the person I've devoted the last ten years of my life to...

"I wish I had some pot," she says it half-jokingly to keep Bobby from saying that. Anything but that. They had all ignored Jack's death. It wasn't _Jack dying_. No. It was _it_.

"You do huh?"

"Yeah,"

"Me too," he chuckles to himself. Or maybe to her. With her? Nah.

"I've never seen him cry before," her lips are quivering and he notices the goose bumps that've risen on her arms, "he thinks that he can't cry in front of me. At Jack's funeral he didn't cry. When it happened..." she bites her lip quickly, "and now when he thinks I'm sleeping he..."

"That's just Angel,"

"How can you be so dismissive about your little brother holding all of his feelings in like that? You know, I seen on tv where–"

"Those people on _tv_ have never been in the military," he looks over at her and smashes his cigarette into the ground.

"When'd you buy those?"

He doesn't realize that he's still holding the pack of cigarettes until she points them out.

"Didn't,"

"Bobby," she sighs, rolling her eyes.

She knows that when Bobby starts fucking up Angel starts fucking up also. When Bobby gets pulled into shit Angel does too. And naturally, when Bobby starts stealing Angel follows suite.

"Got them off of the--"

"Body," she finishes for him, her voice becoming thin, "I miss the kid,"

"You know he hated being called the kid? Hating being called Jackie-_boy_ and all of that other shit we came up with. Especially fairy. Why the fuck would I call him fairy with what happened to him before? Why would I make jokes about him sucking off guys when–"

"He knew that you loved him. That you didn't mean it like that,"

He smirked, mainly to break whatever "moment" they were having.

"Here," he pulled a small bag of weed out of his pocket.

"Jack's?"

"Once a stoner, always a stoner. Just don't waste it all on one bad memory,"

"Yeah," she nodded, trying to take everything in. It was kind of hard to accept the fact that she had, had a conversation with Bobby that had lasted for more than ten minutes without yelling and/or excessive curse words, "Bobby?"

"Yeah?" he turned around, his hand clutching the door handle.

"Don't waste your life on one bad memory,"

His gaze fell slightly. "I'll keep that in mind. I really will,"

**review please.**


End file.
